


Confined

by thecookiemomma



Series: A Little Fishy [5]
Category: NCIS, NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Episode: s03e24 Sans Voir, Episode: s09e24 'Til Death Do Us Part, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-25
Updated: 2012-05-25
Packaged: 2017-11-06 00:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecookiemomma/pseuds/thecookiemomma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the explosive season finales, the two men are confined in different places.  They worry about each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confined

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Thar be spoilers here. If you haven't seen season 9 (or Season 3), please be warned. Also, I wasn't sure how to deal with getting G out yet, so it's not quite the scene I was envisioning for our boys.

G sat down in the cell, ran his hands across his head, and sighed. He didn't know what had possessed him to act like a green, rogue CIA agent in front of the cameras, no less. His worry and frustration intensified when his 'one phone call' went straight to voice mail. Jet never had his phone off. It was a rule. He wondered if it meant the older man was so disappointed in him that he couldn't bring himself to answer the phone. That was the most positive possibility. The other possibilities didn't bear thinking about. His mind went there anyway; the cold fingers of fear gripped his heart and wouldn't let go. He found himself shaking again, much like he had after he'd shot Drakul. This time, there was no one to call to soothe his worry. His lover was gone, either completely or temporarily. Either he'd died, gotten injured, or decided G wasn't worth the annoyance. He'd been _there_ , too. Way too often, in fact. 

 

He rested his head in his hands for a few moments, then looked up when he heard the sound of a throat being cleared. “Mister Callen,” the diminutive woman he called 'boss' and 'friend' began. “Words cannot express how eminently disappointed I am in you. You are aware of that.” His eyes narrowed, but he kept his silence. “ However, that is _not_ the reason for my presence. I could find no other way to inform you of some extremely distressing news.”

 

“Lyova,” he breathed, his worst fears crawling up from his belly and strangling his throat, those proverbial fingers cutting off his air supply. “Is he...”

 

“He lives.” Hetty spoke with a kindly tone, and G's worries grew. “He lives. He is, however, in the hospital, and has seen the news reports with your unwise course of action played out right in front of him. He has attempted to leave care much sooner than he ought because of it. He fears for your safety, much as you fear for his.”

 

Though her words settled something within him, another tendril rose from his gut. Shame. He lowered his head back to his hands, rubbing distractedly at his forehead. “Hetty, can you get a message to him?”

 

“If it is short, and not exceedingly pithy. Leave those kinds of declarations until he is able to receive them more readily.” There was a small measure of humor in her voice that she clung to.

 

“ _Tell him,_ ” he began in plain Russian. “ _Tell him that his little fish swam into waters too deep for him. For him, I'd break Rule 6, since my weakness is evident._ ” He looked up at her, watching her parse the message, then at her nod, he moved to lay down again. 

 

“I can pass that message along quite easily.” Hetty spoke with him for another few minutes, then she strode out of the room with sure steps.

 

* * *

 

Jethro lay in bed in Bethesda, reading a book. His limbs still ached from all the particulate they'd removed from them. His back hurt worse than anything for the same reason. At the discreet cough at his doorway, Jethro looked up. He recognized the sound, but it wasn't an overly familiar one. “Hetty.” He gazed at her from over the top of his reading glasses, and nodded toward the chair. “Long way from OSP.”

 

“They are no longer my concern, Jethro. Other than that stubborn child...” She pursed her lips.

 

“Ya left?” The surprise probably showed on his face.

“Well, yes, Mister Gibbs, I left.” Hetty was one of the few people he let call him that. “I am an _old_ woman now, and I too have my weaknesses.” Her words confused him until she continued. “ _Your little fish wishes to say that he swam in waters too deep and will break rule six for his weaknesses are evident._ ” She leaned forward in her seat. “You _must_ settle down and recuperate, Mister Gibbs, or his worry may cause its own problems.” 

 

“He's worried?” Jethro's brows knit in consternation. “He okay, though? Kept away from ...”

 

She cut him off. “Do give me  _some_ credit, Mister Gibbs. This is, as you may say, 'not my first rodeo.'” 

 

“Yeah.” Jethro ran his hand across his face, wincing when both hand and face stung from the action. “Dammit. Always forget. You didn't have to play messenger girl, Hetty. Coulda just called.” He frowned.

 

“I had my own reasons for coming to DC, Mister Gibbs. This was just a fortuitous coincidence, for all that you don't believe in them.”

 

“All right. Thanks. You seen my team yet?” He frowned. “I get sporadic reports, but nobody tells me what I wanna know: whether DiNozzo's flirtin' with the nurses and demanding AMA yet, whether Ziver's threatening to kill with paperclips or tongue depressors, whether McGee's demandin' his laptop, or Duck's boring the nurses with stories.” His voice broke on Ducky's name. “I'm medical proxy for all of 'em, and nobody'll tell me a damn thing.” He tried not to let his frustration rise. “Can't even ask about Abbs...”

 

Hetty's expression carried an empathy he hadn't seen in a while. “I have not seen your team, but I will ask the admirable Mister Palmer to come in and update you.”

 

“Palmer? He's not off on his honeymoon?” Gibbs was confused.

 

“Oh, no. He's been here, running interference for you, your team, and the Agency. Both he and Mrs. Palmer have been quite effective in making sure things were to your liking. You ought to be proud of that young man, Jethro.”

 

“I am, Hetty.” He fiddled with the tubing near his arm, trying to get it into a less annoying position. “Thank you.”

 

“You are quite welcome. You will be pleased to know that the move is progressing along at a decent pace.” She sat back in her seat, crossed her arms in her lap, and continued to explain exactly how things were at headquarters.

 

* * *

Two weeks had gone by, but G wasn't going anywhere, so he read, wrote, drew... anything he could do to keep his hands and mind busy. He was even tempted to see if he could get someone to bring him a crochet hook and some yarn. One of his foster mothers thought it was a good cure for hyper boys. He'd never appreciated it before now. _Maybe I can ask Sam to bring me …_ He was just turning to write a list when he heard a throat clear behind him. “Yeah, just hold on... I'll ...”

 

“You're an idiot.” He closed his eyes, listening to the amused annoyance and affection in the gravelly voice.

 

“And you're alive.” He rubbed at an eye, frustrated at his emotions. Switching to Russian he continued. “ _I am so sorry, Lyova. I know you taught me much better than that, but I ..._ ”

 

Jet cut him off again, or the sound of a key in the lock did. “ _I understand, Grisha. I am not completely happy with the outcome, but I do understand._ ” If anyone would, G knew Jethro Gibbs would. G turned to meet his lover, then stepped closer, burying himself in the older man's embrace.

 

“Shh, _little-fish. I am here. We cannot do much... I was not allowed to visit you as anything more than a friend, but I may hold you as a brother, and we can talk._ ”

 

G nodded. “ _I hate that it took me doing something stupid to finally get to see you, Lyova, but I am extremely glad you're here._ ” He sighed, inhaling his lover's scent. He closed his eyes for a moment, just savoring Gibbs' presence. “How long do we have?”

 

“Don't worry about it. Hetty put me on the list.” G nodded. They had decided early on that there would be an NCIS Agent with him as much as possible. They explained to the warden that he was an undercover cop and that an op had gone very bad, costing the lives of two of his agents. Luckily, the warden knew them enough to know that they were telling the truth, so he flexed the rules as much as he could.

 

“Good. _God dammit, Lyova, I missed you._ ” He found himself shifting between languages without too much effort.

 

Jet grunted his agreement, saying nothing more, just tightening his grip around G's body. G felt him lower his head and kiss G's temple. Releasing him from the embrace, Jet pulled him over to the bed, and the two men sat down side by side. “Missed ya, G.” Jet's voice was a whisper. “Anybody tell you about the building and the bomb?”

 

“Hetty told me some. I think Sam and the kids were afraid I'd lose my shit.” He snorted. “ _You were involved, and I'd just gone rogue. I think it was an understandable attitude._ ” He reached a hand up to trace the new light scars on the older man's face. “ _If I ever get out of here, I want to see ..._ ” He couldn't even finish the sentence. However, his lover was nothing if not perceptive.

 

“Yeah. Me too.” Gibbs' eyes narrowed, and G nodded, hearing four layers of communication in his gaze. “Dirtbag was...” He continued to tell the story, the two men sitting comfortably beside each other for a couple hours.

 

It wasn't the grand reunion either had expected, but for now, it was enough.


End file.
